


A Christmas of Our Own

by savvyliterate



Series: With the Ponds [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 21:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvyliterate/pseuds/savvyliterate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their first Christmas together, they spent it with Amy and Rory. But for the second, the Doctor and River decided to spend it on their own. Sequel to "Christmas Eve with the Ponds" and "Christmas Day with the Ponds"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Christmas of Our Own

“Merry Christmas!” The Doctor burst out of the TARDIS into the Stormcage wearing an elf hat and a bell around his neck, fully expecting to find his wife curled on her bunk. She would either be scribbling away in her diary or reading a book. A real book, because she expressed a preference for the tactile feel of turning pages over scanning an electronic reader, though she had one of those as well. “Let’s go to … River?”

He spun around the empty cell slowly, making sure there was nothing lurking in any of the corners, then strode over to the calendar to check the date. It was Christmas Day, one year of linear time since he’d dropped her off after spending their first married Christmas with her parents. Of course, they’d seen each other almost every night since then, but he had _plans_. Grand plans that he’d worked really hard on and forced himself to actually wait for a year because Amy said Christmas was magical because it came once a year. After having a dozen Christmases in a row with Kazran while trying to save Amy and Rory on their honeymoon, the Doctor was inclined to agree that he needed a slight break from the holiday. But, he’d been ready by September in the Ponds’ linear time, but Amy made him wait. So he waited and waited, and by the time it was October, he decided it was close enough and went off to get River.

A now-absent River. This was not part of his grand plans.

Pouting slightly, he headed back to the TARDIS.

——

The wreath-decorated front door to the Pond-Williams house opened.

“Merry Christmas!” The Doctor proclaimed and pushed past a visibly pregnant Amy. “Where’s your daughter, Pond?”

“What? No hello to your best friend? No, my, how you’ve grown?” Amy indicated the swell of her stomach. “I assume you’re referring to the adult, not the one currently kicking my bladder. She’s not here.”

“She’s not?” The Doctor did a full pout now. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know, she hasn’t been here this year yet. Thought she was coming with you. Maybe she’s shopping?”

“Maybe! I should wait for her!” The Doctor wandered into the living room, sat on the sofa for approximately five seconds, then sprang to his feet again. “I’ll go find her! See you later, Pond!” He swept out the door, turned back and laid a hand on Amy’s stomach. “Don’t go giving your mum too much grief,” he gently said and scurried back to the TARDIS.

It only hit him when he was in the vortex that Amy hadn’t been _that_ pregnant the last time he’d seen her a few months earlier. Really, she’d only been a few months along, unexpected news that Amy, Rory and the Doctor discovered when they stepped onto the TARDIS for a random trip and found the monitor displaying a full body scan of Amy with the red dot indicating her pregnancy.

The Doctor’s hands stilled on the controls, and he found himself grinning at the time rotor. Timelines spread in his mind, and he could see nothing but joy in the future for the earthbound Ponds.

——

It took the Doctor about six weeks and encounters with five different Rivers before he found the right one on a small nebula where the gravity was half that of Earth’s, and she was currently in a freefall.

He had enough time to realize she had jumped from a very impressive height, but thanks to the gravity, he didn’t need to open the doors to the swimming pool that he had reinstated. He simply assessed her situation via the monitor, tore out the doors with fear racing through his veins and held his arms out to her. She landed in them as graceful as a ballerina, but without the force that had sent his younger self falling back into the TARDIS in their early days.

River smiled and looped her arms around the Doctor’s neck as his arms trembled a bit around her. She took in the elf hat and bell he’d put back on. “Hello, sweetie. Hideous hat.”

“Hideous hat to you too, dear, and I’ll have you know that is a legitimate greeting on some planets.”

“Oh, you’re calling me ‘dear.’ Definitely not early days for you.” She caressed the short hairs at the nape of his neck and made him shiver. “When is this for you?”

“Any number of times, but specifically, how many Christmases have we spent together?”

“Just the one, why?”

“And, is this 25 December?”

“In linear time for me? Thereabouts. I was trying to get Christmas gifts. It went a bit haywire.” River slid out of the Doctor’s hold, fluffed her curls and stepped into the TARDIS.

“Christmas gifts? What were you doing, testing skydiving lessons?”

River winked over her shoulder. “Are you asking for them? I hear they do naked skydiving on this lovely little resort planet in the Rexla galaxy.”

“Yes, I’m perfectly aware of that planet, and the skydiving lessons are … _River!_ ”

She threw her head back and laughed, a sound so rich and vibrant that he had to grin. Mentally thanking the TARDIS for finally directing him to the right River, the Doctor scurried to the console and batted River’s hands away. “No, it’s my turn to drive. Which it should always be my turn to drive because it’s my TARDIS. Got it, you two?”

River made a noncommittal sound and ignored him, keying in coordinates and running her fingertips along the time rotor, which pulsed beneath them.

“No, I mean it this time! We’re spending Christmas together!”

“Sweetie, I know how to set the coordinates for my parents’ home.”

“Not with Amy and Rory!” He found himself staring very intently at a lever that he thought controlled the cappuccino machine, but the last time he pulled it, all the slot machines on that third floor game parlor began dispensing Brussels sprouts. “We’re doing an old-fashioned Christmas! New York, 1924. We’re going to see the original Macy’s Christmas Parade, which later became the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade, but it’s Christmas so we’ll see the original. And then we’ll go a bit forward to 1933 and see the first lighting of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. And then …”

“We’re doing this by ourselves?”

“Why wouldn’t we? Now, go get changed into something appropriate because first, we’re going to do this!” The Doctor threw a lever, landing the TARDIS. He raced to the door, popped his head out, then ran back to grab River’s hand. Delighted, she laughed and let him tug her along until she found herself gazing into a clearing filled with pristine snow.

“What’s this?”

“It’s snow, River.” He tapped her nose.

“I know that, sweetie. But why snow?”

“Why not? First part of Christmas is to build a snowman! Make snow angels! Then there’s hot chocolate. You really need the hot chocolate, or it won’t work and … why are you looking at me like that?”

River gave him a skeptical look. “We’re building snowmen?”

“Everyone builds snowmen, River!” The Doctor bounced into the snow and stuck out his tongue to catch an errant flake.

“Not everyone, my love.”

He nearly tripped over his own feet. He managed to catch himself in a move that made him look like an awkward baby giraffe, then managed to steady himself and face River. "You mean to tell me you never built a snowman?"

She leaned against the door. “Why? What was the point?"

"What was the … _what was the point?_ "

River shrugged. "I never saw the need to turn mounds of snow into inanimate objects. Besides, I was too busy hurling snowballs at people." She laughed at the Doctor's perplexed expression. "What? It was good practice in precision and targeting. Actually, they stopped allowing me to go out during recess when it snowed because they wanted to minimize the damage I caused."

"Oh, River. River, River, River." The Doctor sprang back to the TARDIS door and took her hand. "You've got to build at least one snowman." He gave her such an earnest look that she found herself relenting.

"Fine. But unlike some people, I'm not going out there without the proper gear." River disappeared into the TARDIS and reemerged a few minutes later in a large, puffy coat, mittens and a knitted cap with a pompom attached.

The Doctor promptly tried to steal it.

"Stop that!" River batted away his hands.

"But, you don't let me wear hats!"

"Your hats are ridiculous. Mine are practical."

"But, I want a hat!"

"You already used the free hat pass I gave you last year. Stop it, or I'm going back in the TARDIS." River placed her hands on her hips and studied the snowy clearing as if it was a battlefield she needed to conquer. "Well, let's get started."

"You act like I'm dragging you to the dentist on Trifax 3, which really did get better once they stopped using those torture instruments when drilling cavities." The Doctor knelt, forming a ball of snow in his hands, then dropped it to the ground. He batted it about a bit so the ball would grow, then motioned to River. "I'm not doing this for you. Make your own."

He set about making the perfect snowman. The body the perfect size. The carrot angled just so for the nose. Little lumps of coal he found for the eyes glittered where he had meticulously aligned them. One of his old scarves was looped carefully around the base of the neck. He stood back, admiring his work. All it needed was a hat. He'd need to go back to the TARDIS for that since River was being quite selfish and not giving up hers. He spun around to see what River had made. He really was expecting some sort of grand creation. Snow Dalek, anatomically correct version of himself, a sculpture of a hat being blown up.

There was nothing.

River stood where he'd left her, watching him with an unreadable expression. No, he realized as he walked toward her. She looked sad. She looked like the little girl who'd had her childhood ripped away from her and hadn't been allowed to do what normal children could do. She'd starved to death on the streets of New York at age 7. She'd grown up being trained and manipulated into the perfect weapon. He wanted to storm into the TARDIS, go back to 1969 and kill every single Silent there again. Then he wanted to find Madame Kovarian and strangle her with his bare hands. The rage and violence pulsed beneath his skin, because they _hurt_ River in so many ways that even he was afraid it could never be fixed.

He stepped carefully, afraid to touch her. Taking deep, steady breaths, he looked down at her. She stared up at him, the fine sheen of tears in her eyes. She opened her mouth, started to say his name … then he stole her hat.

"Doctor!"

"Snowman needs a hat!" he proclaimed with forced joviality. "You wouldn't shoot your own hat now, would you?" He plopped the hat on the snowman and stood back to admire it. "How does it look?" he asked when she joined him.

She laughed. "Ridiculous."

"It is not!"

"The hat's the same color as the snow!"

"It's still cool!"

"You should fix the scarf."

"Where?" The Doctor turned back to the snowman, squinting and angling his head about just as River scooped up a handful of snow. With a mischievous grin, she dumped it down the back of his jacket.

"River!" He yelped and she sprang away, laughing as he danced about, shaking madly to get the snow out of his tweed. He wound up jerking it off, swinging it about before tossing it over his arm and pointing at her. "You did that on purpose!"

"Indeed I did, my love."

"You're a really bad girl!"

"That's not really bad. This is!" River reared back and lobbed a finely packed snowball. It smacked him on the side of the head.

He stalked up to her until they were nose to nose, face deadly serious. "Of course you know, this means war."

"Of course, sweetie.” River kissed him, then dumped the snow she had fisted in her hand down the back of his trousers.

The great snowball war of the 3rd Fain of Trifalga on the planet G'rar lasted approximately two hours and 13 minutes. Somehow, River's hat had become the grand prize. The Doctor had to admit, those years of picking off kids in Leadworth really had honed River's skills. But her military-style precision was evenly matched against his sheer madness, and the battle ended with her taking a flying leap at the snowman, snatching the hat off just as he tackled her.

They rolled over the snow, laughing so hard that he hiccuped and she could barely breathe. She wound up pinned under him, snow sparkling in her hair like fine diamonds, her face flush and healthy and full of laughter. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, so he had to kiss her.

The hat was quickly abandoned as she fist his hair, rolling them over so his back was pressed into the snowy ground and she straddled his hips. His clothes were soaked from the constant pelting of snow, but she was still mostly dry and very warm. She rolled her hips over him as she hungrily kissed him, and he returned it with as much passion as she gave him. She nipped his lower lip, and he moaned, hands skimming under that ridiculously puffy coat of hers until he felt smooth silk against his fingertips and was intrigued.

"What's this?" He lazily traced Gallifreyan characters over the delicate material.

"Christmas present," she replied with a sultry smile that caused his trousers to not only be very cold and wet, but grow exceedingly tight. "Amy gave me a gift certificate last year. I used it." She rolled off him, scooped the hat up and offered him her hand. He let her haul him up, found his tweed near the ruins of the snowman, and they walked back to the TARDIS hand in hand.

He fully expected her to push him against the door, but she kissed his cheek and told him to go change. That never spoke of anything good, but he did as he was told, for his clothes were wet and uncomfortable. He wasn't quite sure what to change into, if anything at all. It was River after all. He had to be prepared for anything from a solid week of bedroom games to inciting a war in three galaxies at the same time. He settled on a basic trousers and shirt, leaving the braces undone, and the tweed needed drying anyhow.

He sat on the bed, wondering if he should go look for her when the door opened and she walked in with a tray of biscuits and two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. He snatched one of the mugs as soon as it was within reach and nearly inhaled it. Thornton's white chocolate. He loved it, especially because there were little chocolate bits that melted and he could scrape it up with his fingertip once the chocolate was gone.

"Of course, that's why I made it," River said, and the Doctor realized he said it aloud.

This was the part, he mused, where she usually jumped him. Or he jumped her. Really, there was an equal amount of jumping in their relationship. Not that it was a bad thing, especially with River Song. He flushed and went to pull at his bowtie only to remember he wasn’t wearing one. So, he patted at his chest, took another swig of cocoa and forgot that it was close to scalding hot. He yelped, the cocoa sloshed and River handily caught the mug before it dropped to the floor.

“Too bad,” she mused. “I was hoping it’d land on your trousers. A good reason to take them off.”

“River!”

She winked and finished off his chocolate.

“River!”

“You dropped it, my love. I assume you don’t want it any longer.” She swirled her finger in the bottom of the mug, scraping up the melted chocolate. She started to ease her finger into her mouth when, in a fit of revenge, he grabbed her wrist and redirected her finger into his mouth. He slowly sucked the digit, tasting chocolate, sugar and cinnamon from the biscuits and that taste that was so uniquely hers.

He swirled his tongue around her fingertip, and she swayed toward him, the fingers of her other hand curling into the hair that was just over his ear. She lightly massaged his scalp with small circles, and his eyes fluttered close as he slowly drew her finger out of his mouth. He leaned in toward her until their foreheads almost touched, feeling himself starting to get lost in her as she stretched for the kiss they were both anticipating.

Then he grabbed her hand and tugged her out of the bedroom.

River nearly stumbled over her own feet, but quickly caught up. “Where are we going?”

“To show you something!” He tugged her through the halls of the TARDIS, across the console room and down a flight of stairs. They stopped before a set of double doors, and he quickly nudged her in front of him, hands on her shoulder as he literally bounced from excitement. “Open them!”

“I really hope whatever this is has a wrought-iron headboard and handcuffs,” River muttered.

“Really, is sex all you can think of?”

River’s sharp gaze narrowed on the bulge in his trousers. “Pot. Kettle. Black,” she hissed and threw the doors open.

The octagon-shaped room was huge, easily the size of the entire first floor of Amy and Rory’s house. Their feet sank into plush carpet that was so soft it was akin to walking over down pillows stacked atop each other. A huge fireplace took up one wall with four stockings hanging from the mantle. A coffee table held an array of sweets and drinks, both alcoholic and non. But the _pièce de résistance_ was clearly the Christmas tree. The fir was at least 60 feet tall, dripping with white lights and delicate antique ornaments.

And it was upside down.

“Why’s the tree upside down?” River asked.

“Isn’t it fantastic?” The Doctor bounded into the room, clapping his hands together. The main lights in the room cut off. “Well, inverted trees really go back to the 12th century. Hung with candles to represent the Holy Trinity. Really nasty fire hazard. But these were made so stores could cram them into small spaces and hang up more ornaments! Just think of the ingenuity!”

“Or the marketing gimmicks.”

“Really, do you have to be so cynical? Is this an archaeologist thing?”

“You don’t put much stock in my degrees anyhow, my love.”

“That’s because you … _degrees?_ You earned another?” He sounded ridiculously pleased. “You finally got that doctorate in pasta on Iginator?”

“Had to do something with my time in prison, and no, I did not get a doctorate in pasta to go with your one in cheese making.” But she’d already lost him as he dropped to floor under the tree, all gangly limbs and excitement. “So, why an upside down tree, Doctor?”

“Isn’t it cool? Upside down trees really are cool, no matter what you archaeologists,” he spat out the word as if he was talking about cleaning latrines, “say. Besides, I thought you’d like it since you like laying under trees and all. See? If you look at it, it’ll be right side up!”

River decided if hearts could turn into goo, hers would pretty much be a pile of squishy mush. “So, you did this for me?”

He flailed a bit. “Well, not me per say. The TARDIS did it. Not me. I definitely didn’t do it. The TARDIS does lots of things. She decided that we really didn’t need that hair salon with all the beehive dryers from the 1960s, so she created this instead. Well, maybe with a little help from me. Just a bit, a small suggestion made completely at random. I mean, I haven’t needed a perm since my eighth reincarnation and …”

She straddled his waist, leaning over him until her curls framed his face. “Thank you,” she breathed and kissed him, the one sure way of cutting off his tendency to take very verbose detours.

It was a slow, gentle kiss. One of the types that was like pouring warm, melted glaze over fresh cinnamon rolls, the taste, smell and touch seeping into him as she stoked his cheeks, the slight stubble on his chin, the sensitive earlobes that caused him to gasp into her mouth before biting down gently on her lower lip. His hands were already busy tugging up her jumper so he could feel that amazing silk again. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans, intrigued and delighted to discover that whatever she was hiding under her clothes seemed to be a one-piece ensemble. He pushed at her jumper until she finally obliged, breaking the kiss long enough to strip it off and toss it aside.

His breath caught as his gaze roamed over her, an emerald green and silver silk and lace bustier molded to her curves, narrowing over her waist and disappearing into her jeans. His hands slid up her ribcage and over her breasts, and she arched eagerly into his touch with a moan. Her pelvis rocked, pressing into him, and his fingers pinched reflexively.

“It’s not blue,” he managed.

“It’s Christmas. Not everything I wear is blue.”

“Does Amy know you got this?”

“I love my mother, but I am not telling her what lingerie I’m bought to shag you under the Christmas tree with. It was a gift certificate. I spent it on what I wanted.” She leaned forward and nipped his nose. “You’d probably buy a hideous jumper with reindeers on it.” His eyes lit up. “No, you are not buying one of those, and we are not going anywhere at the moment. Not until you unwrap your gift.”

And, really, it was a rather spectacular gift, as he discovered when she took care of removing her jeans. His first guess was wrong, it was actually a two-piece ensemble. The bustier continued until it hugged her bum, almost but not quite concealing a matching pair of emerald green knickers. Knickers, he noted with a great deal of pride, that were growing quite damp because of him. She lowered herself to him again, to press herself against the length of him still trapped in his clothes. Before she could, he moved his hand between her legs, rubbing her clit lightly through the thin silk. Her breath hitched, and her arms shook as her head dropped to his shoulder. Her curls fell into his mouth, but he really didn’t mind at all. He nudged her knickers aside and slid two fingers into her, knuckle deep, as his thumb continue to tease her clit. She ground herself into him, hips rising and falling with increased frequency until she grabbed his wrist and tried to push his hand away. “Not yet,” she hissed.

“Oh, yes, right now,” he murmured and thrust deep, grinding the palm of his hand against her as his lips found the spot on her neck that always drove her wild. He drew the skin into his mouth, sucked hard and felt her shatter above him as her muscles clamped around his fingers, and she screamed into his shoulder. He kept teasing her, feeling the aftershocks ripple through her until she rolled off to his side, landing on her discarded clothes.

“We’re not done,” she managed after a moment.

“No, we’re not,” he acknowledged, and his hand found hers as they gazed up at the tree, the star hovering about 10 feet above their heads.

“You’re entirely too dressed,” she announced after a moment and sat up. She nimbly undid the buttons on his shirt and his trousers, her knuckles purposefully grazing him as she slowly slid down the zip before reaching in to run her palm over the length of him, and he throbbed beneath her hand.

“Aren’t I suppose to be undressing you?” he managed as she slowly stroked him through his pants, ending his sentence with a soft whine.

“It’s my holiday, too. I plan to enjoy it every much as you do.” With that, she stripped away his trousers and pants, pushing them down to his ankles. Before he could kick them away, she took him into her mouth. He immediately fisted her curls, a moan building in the back of his throat before wheezing out in a whine. He arched his hips, pushing himself as deep as he could without choking her. Cracking an eye open, he saw himself disappear between ruby red lips, could feel her gently rolling the soft sac beneath him with nimble fingers. She’d always been the screamer, but he was the talker, urging her on with repeated pleas, the filthiest suggestions he could think of, and her name repeated like a litany.

Then, just as he knew he was about to lose his mind, she released him with a loud pop. Slowly, she dragged her tongue up his pelvis, over his abdomen, up his sternum in a mixture of kissing and licking. Her fingers found his nipples and pinched hard as she straddled him once more. Patience gone, he fumbled with the hooks on the bustier, but they just wouldn’t work right. The fingers, that is. He was quite sure the bustier was working extremely well.

“Take it off,” he ordered.

She rose, removed the matching thong and dropped it on his mouth. “You didn’t say what to take off,” she laughed.

He sputtered and spat the cloth aside, but the smell and taste of her lingered, and what little self-control he had dissolved. He sat up, flipped them over and entering her with a smooth stroke. Their breaths caught at the same time, and he lowered his head to her shoulder, far too gone to even try to pull any fancy moves. Those could be done later, much later. Now it was skin against skin, four hearts beating against each other as her nails raked down his spine and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She rolled her hips against him, and he was lost, the world spinning away in a spiral of time, possibilities, emotion and the woman who both anchored him to the ground and flung him to the farthest reaches of the universe at the same time.

There was nothing but the sound of their labored breathing.

Then the TARDIS began playing the chorus from Handel’s “Messiah.”

“Seriously?” the Doctor sputtered as River broke into peals of laughter, burying her head in his shoulder as the words “Hallelujah” echoed through the room. He rolled to his side and pointed at the ceiling. “It’s not like this is the first time we’ve done this, you know!”

The song switched to “Joy to the World.”

“Well, certain lines to that carol have a different meaning now, don’t they?”

“River! That’s blasphemy!”

“Since when are either of us religious?”

The TARDIS switched to “Jingle Bells” and kept taunting them with Christmas carols as they found their clothes and redressed, but neither were really compelled to move from under the giant Christmas tree. Sometime during “Little Drummer Boy,” the door opened and Amy and Rory appeared, gifts stacked in Rory’s arms and Amy resting her arm on her rounded stomach.

“The TARDIS suddenly showed up in the garden,” Amy said as Rory eyed the upside-down tree. “Suppose you found each other, right?”

“We always do, Mum, and … Sweetie, where did you go?”

“River!” The Doctor’s delighted voice emerged from somewhere inside the Christmas tree. “The TARDIS made ornaments for us!” He stuck his head out of the giant fir, waving a small pair of handcuffs at her. Then he caught sight of Amy and Rory and went red, flustering a bit as he dropped the ornament and patted his clothes to make sure they were in place. “Hello, Ponds! Good, you’re here!” He shimmered down the tree and dropped to the floor. “Let’s go caroling!”

“That sounds like fun,” Rory said. Amy glowered at him. “Well, it is! They give you hot chocolate.”

The Doctor’s idea of caroling turned out to be a planet full of carols from all over the galaxy and giant bells ringing to celebrate their version of the winter holidays. It was snowy, fluffy and there was absolutely no hint of danger, something the Doctor, Rory and River thought was perfect for the pregnant Amy, though Amy did grumble a bit about not getting to have a proper adventure at the moment. But it was still fun, with laughter and singing, and Rory got his hot chocolate.

“I think,” River said from where she stood a few feet away from Amy and Rory, bundled into a Victorian style coat edged with fur and a matching cap with her hands tucked into a muff, “the only thing more beautiful than this would be the Singing Towers of Darillium. We should go there some time.”

The grin disappeared from the Doctor’s face, and he stared at River for a long time as the Ponds wandered ahead of them.

River gave him a questioning look. “What?”

“Nothing.” The word caught in his throat, and he forced a smile.

River approached him, frowning. “Something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he lied. “I’ll take you there. Some day.”

“Promise?”

He was really trying to do a good job of not crying. But he felt the sting of tears and had to blink them away fast, hoping that River was young enough to mistake them for being out in the cold and not for anything else. “I promise,” he rasped, and slipping an arm around her waist, hugged her as tightly as he could.


End file.
